


a quiet morning

by smithens



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Coming Out, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13346592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: “Yes,” said Combeferre. “I would rather have told you myself.”





	a quiet morning

“I admit to have found it troubling, that you would not confide in me such a thing when we have shared with each other our thoughts on matters much more dangerous,” said Enjolras. His face betrayed no emotion — even his ordinarily rosy cheeks had no flush, and his high forehead showed neither wrinkle nor frown.

Combeferre rubbed at his eyes, carelessly knocking his spectacles to one side. He took them off rather than replace them: in this manner he avoided meeting Enjolras’s eyes.

He had desired little else but a quiet morning.

“But then I said to myself: perhaps to him exterior knowledge of this is just as risky as that of sedition. Thus I said nothing to you, despite my suspicion. It was not my place.”

Enjolras faltered.

“It remains so.”

“Yes,” said Combeferre. “I would rather have told you myself.”

“Then I beg your forgiveness for what has transpired.”

Sans invitation, Enjolras sat next to him on the bed, but Combeferre could not bring himself to fan the spark of his irritation.

Enjolras, even if unknowing and a little tactless, did not deserve his ire.

“If I were Courfeyrac I would throw you out at once for such an interruption.”

“If you were Courfeyrac we would not be having this discussion.”

“Hm.”

And Combeferre leaned against him, setting his hand upon Enjolras’s thigh.

Such affection between them — between any two men like them — was innocuous until a disruption of the norm such as this came to light, and then dear friendships became stiff and alienating.

Enjolras wrapped an arm around Combeferre’s waist, and a tension in Combeferre’s chest seemed to dissolve.

“What is he like?”

“He is a veterinarian. Older than I, very scientific. That we share, among other things, but men must not be exactly alike: we are lovers, not twins, it is complementary as it should be. He is from a little village in Picardy. You wouldn’t like him.”

“A republican?” asked Enjolras.

“A Calvinist.”

“One can be both,” supplied Enjolras. “I don’t suppose I have met a Calvinist.”

“He isn’t,” said Combeferre. “He is peculiar and impartial to politics, but more empathetic than any man I know - save, perhaps, Jean Prouvaire. But he is technical and precise above all. I tell you, alas - I should not wish to see either of you together in the same room, but I like him very well. We have been…  _associating_  with one another for some time now. If it lasts - well. I suppose I won’t keep him hidden forever, if he does not find my secrets too shameful.”

“You are right; I wouldn’t like him. But I imagine he could become tolerable, if he also becomes more important to you.”

Combeferre smiled.

And that was that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a Tumblr. :-)](https://combeferre.tumblr.com/)


End file.
